Thy Soul At Prayer

by Walter M. Lindsay

This Sabbath morn, thy soul has made
Anew its peace with heaven;
Thy chamber is the temple, where
Thy offerings are given.
And yet thou prayest, not alone
At morn and evening hours;
Thy holy thoughts to God ascend
Always. -- As the flowers
Unconscious of their sweetness are,
Yet breathe it on the air
In all their day, so thy pure life
Is an unceasing prayer.